


a bullet to the head (a knife to my heart)

by Garecc, Gunpowderdtim (Garecc)



Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [19]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Eye Horror, Eye Trauma, Gun Violence, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Joking Fights, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nastya isnt here much but she talks and thats my tag rule, Pain, Soft Jonny d'Ville, accidental injury, there are so many injury tags on ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Garecc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Gunpowderdtim
Summary: In which Jonny accidentally shoots Tim in the eye.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim
Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799860
Comments: 11
Kudos: 100





	a bullet to the head (a knife to my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> writing this took three full days because my wrist was killing me
> 
> regardless, enjoy

Tim is laughing as he and Jonny shoot, bullets flying, ricocheting off metal and bouncing with sparks around the room.

They'd gotten in a fight of sorts, more of a spat really. Nothing serious. Jonny had jokingly threatened one of Tim's octokittens, and Tim had responded reasonably. 

By shooting him in the shoulder and bolting out the door, cackling.

Jonny had screamed in fury before rocketing after him, eyes wild and mouth pulled into a sharp grin. 

Tim had soon realized he was still holding his octokitten, and with bullets flashing after him from Jonny’s gun, he didn't want zem to be shot.

Luckily, Nastya was fixing some wires (were those wires?) and Tim stopped, holding up a hand in Jonny’s direction to indicate “give me a moment.” Jonny paused the shooting, so Tim paused in front of Nastya, stopping abruptly enough to draw her attention.

She looks up. Looking somewhere between annoyed and bored.

“Nastya?” He starts, already beginning to peel Noodles off his coat.

“Yes, Tim?”

“Can you hold Noodles?”

“Your cat?”

“Yeah me and Jonny are fighting.”

“Tim I am busy.”

“I don't care.” He pried Noodles off him and set zem on Nastya. Ze glooped zir way into Nastya’s lap. 

She stared at it blankly.

“...Fine. But only because it seems very polite.”

“Thank you!” He chirps, she smiles gently at him. 

"Keep zem safe or else." Tim patted his cat's head before straightening up. 

“What are the cat's pronouns?” Nastya asks, scritching zir chin.

“Ze/Zem/Zir”

“Thank you.”

Tim nods, standing up. He looks to Jonny, meeting his eyes from where he stood, before nodding. Permission to continue his pursuit, and bolted.

Jonny did the same.

Jonny might be feral, but this was a for fun fight, and he didn't want to _actually_ hurt Tim's cat. While he might be a cold-hearted monster, he was _not_ going to kill his boyfriend’s cat.

That would _actually_ be awful. 

So they were running, Tim cackling, Jonny shooting (purposefully missing anything vital to give Tim a _chance_ at winning. It wouldn’t be as fun if Jonny killed him instantly.) And while Jonny was rather fast, Tim had the advantage of longer legs.

But. Jonny knew Tim’s stamina was shit right now, he’d been reset killed a few months back, reverting to the state he was mechanized in. Half dead from starvation with a septic bullet in his shoulder, with muscles used to moon gravity and stamina to match his diet of corpses. 

It hadn’t been long, so when Tim, who was almost half a hallway ahead, ducked into a storage room, he wasn't surprised.

“Oh, Tim~~” Jonny called, standing just out of shooting range of the door. Twirling his gun in his hands. He could hear Tim laughing, practically wheezing for breath inside. Jonny smiled to himself, he loved Tim’s laugh.

He loved Tim being so happy.

He loved that Tim could be happy.

He loved Tim.

* * *

Tim was almost screaming with laughter, half-hidden behind some storage crates, laughing so hard he couldn't hide if he wanted to. Wheezing with laughter.

He kept his gaze on the door, waiting for Jonny to enter so he could hide completely.

Jonny sprung around the corner, not looking, just aiming for the sound of Tim’s laughter as he shot.

He’d expected Tim to be standing, so he aimed lower than he would have to avoid Tim’s head. 

To avoid his eyes.

Unfortunately, this backfired.

Tim made a sound of genuine pain, of shock.

Jonny's stomach dropped. 

Tim stumbled backward, catching himself on a crate, wincing with gasping breaths.

His entire face was bloodied. His right eye a disaster of twisted metal and gore.

Jonny froze. Mouth half-open.

Fuck.

Tim was unsteady as he leaned over the crate he caught himself on, hands giving way to his elbows as he collapsed forward. Hardly able to hold himself up as his shoulders shook, his head tilted downward.

Bloody metal clumps fell from his ruined eye socket. 

His entire face was gore, the bullet having ripped the metal plates out of place, has torn the metal from where it fused with his skin.

He was a bloody mess, skin ripped, eye shattered.

Blood ran down his face, the closest thing Tim would ever have to tears.

He made a sound between a gasp and a whimper. A choked, strangled sound as he nearly sobbed.

He couldn’t speak around the pain.

Another bloodied piece of metal clinked against the crate. 

Blood poured from Tim's eye, from the edges of his mechanism, and he didn't move so much as a centimeter. 

If he moved his head, the plates would _shift._

And Jonny knew from seeing it before, from Tim describing it, that it would be so, so, so much worse. 

A split second later Jonny unfroze. Swearing as he realized what happened, as a wave of guilt crashed through him

He looked around frantically for something to wrap Tim's head in while his eye sorted itself out. Regenerated. Whatever.

Something to soak up the blood and keep everything from shifting further out of place.

Aurora's screen beeped, and Jonny glanced towards it. She tells him that miraculously there is a towel in one of the crates, and in less than a second Jonny is shooting it open. Grabbing the fabric and rushing to Tim's side.

"Tim?" Jonny wrapped an arm around him, he hardly reacted beyond a slight whimper.

Jonny exhaled sharply, trying to bury the panic of _what if he broke something badly?_ And started wrapping the towel around Tim's head. So, so, _so_ careful not to jostle his head or move quickly. To keep him still.

Once he was certain Tims's head was secure, he took a shaky breath. 

Tim is covered in his own blood.

“Tim, let’s have you sit down okay?” 

Tim signed a shaky affirmative, and slowly slid to the floor, Jonny’s arm supporting most of his weight.

“Do you think you can lay your head in my lap, darlin? I’ll hold your head still.” Jonny kept his voice soft, calm. Hopefully soothing.

Tim managed another affirmative.

Jonny guided Tim’s head into his lap. Mumbling encouraging statements as Tim gasped and whined at almost every movement.

Tim took one of Jonny’s hands, lacing their fingers together tightly. 

With his free hand, Jonny kept Tim’s head still.

Jonny ran his thumb over Tim’s knuckles as Tim whimpered as the bullet worked its way out of his twisted eye socket.

Tim squeezed Jonny’s hand tight enough to crack one of his fingers as his skull snapped back into place with a harsh crack.

Tim only sobbed a bit as the metal plates shifted back to what was somewhere near where they were supposed to rest.

The towel was nearly soaked through with blood.

Tim takes a shaky breath when his eye winds itself whole, when the nothing goes to unfocused static to blurry frames to detailed images.

The skin around his mechanism meshed with the metal again, seamless.

For the most part, healed.

Other than the blood, and more jagged scars around the metal, there was no evidence that Jonny had just shot him in the eye.

Tim felt lightheaded as he rolled onto his side, burying his face into Jonny’s thigh. 

His head throbbed in tune with his heart. Jonny ran fingers through Tim’s hair.

“I didn't mean to shoot your eye,” Jonny’s voice was soft, almost mumbled. “I’m so sorry.”

“It's fine,” Tim whispered in return. “I’m ok. I promise.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Tim didn't respond beyond squeezing Jonny's hand again. 

“Let's go clean the blood off your face okay?” Jonny kept his voice quiet, calm as he asked a few minutes later. 

Tim nodded, and mumbled something similar to an affirmative, and Jonny helped him stand.

  
Tim was pale, shaking more than a bit as they walked. Holding on to Jonny’s hand so tightly Jonny was rather certain more than one of his fingers were broken. But Jonny didn't let go, and he and Tim walked to the nearest bathroom. 

Tim sat on the toilet while Jonny wet a washcloth. Waiting a moment for the water to run warm. Jonny started wiping the blood from Tim’s face and neck.

There was a lot of it.

“I’m not mad,” Tim says as Jonny wiped the side of his face. “Just- that was _awful_.”

“I know.”

“I really hate when my skull breaks. Being blind isn’t the worst part honestly. The whole... my face being ripped apart and my skull breaking is the bad part.”

Jonny rinsed out the washcloth, the water in the sink went red.

“I know you didn't mean to, so I'm not mad, okay Jonny? Don't freak out about this.”

“I’m not.” Jonny lies, wetting the cloth again. 

“Sure you aren’t.” Tim quips as Jonny began dabbing the blood from his forehead. “You're not going to refuse to point a gun at me for about a decade?”

“Shut up.” Jonny finished up with the blood on Tim’s skin, and started running the washcloth over the edge of the metal plates.

Tim winced, and Jonny’s hands froze.

“Just stings some, you're fine.” Tim sighed. He tried to look reassuring but the pained note in his tone scared him.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Jonny muttered, continuing. “I hate hurting you.”

“You shoot me for fun.”

“Yeah but that doesn't count! I’m talking actually _hurt_ you.” Jonny finished with the blood on Tim’s face, and began examining his Mechanism critically. Looking for any lasting damage.

“You couldn’t permanently hurt me, Jonny.”

“But I can _hurt hurt_ you. You shouldn’t forgive me so quickly.” 

“I don't care what I should do. Fuck that. I love you.” Jonny paused, blushing furiously as he gathered his wits.

“I love you too." Jonny's voice was quiet as he stepped back a bit. "Can you look around? Test your eye?”

“Jonny it's fine.”

“Humour me.”

Tim sighed, looking up, down, left, right and back and forth rapidly as Jonny watched his eye focus and unfocus.

Finally, he nodded. “The metal isn’t aligned right—”

“When is it ever?”

“I know. But other than that, it looks like it's working fine. Tell me—”

“If anything isn’t working. _I know and I will._ ”

Jonny nods. “Do you want me to try and push the metal into place?”

“...You know what? I already broke my skull today why not do it again.”

“Tim…”

“Jonny, I would rather be in pain now than wake up tomorrow with the plates so fucked up and out of place I can't breathe out of my nose.”

“Maybe in a few hours? When you have less of a headache?”

“Just do it.”

Jonny sighed and pushed one of the plates back into place. Then another. And another.

As he aligns them, Tim bites into his finger to muffle a scream as he felt his skull crack into place, followed by his nose shifting slightly to the left.

While Jonny’s fingers might be delicate and warm on his face, the crack in his skull is not pleasant.

The plates pull his skin some, but nothing tears.

No new bloody tears run down his face.

Jonny pulls his hands back, and Tim realized he hadn’t breathed the entire time, and takes a shuddering gasping breath.

“Thank you,” Tim murmurs, leaning forward and letting his head drop against Jonny’s chest. “I want to go lay down.”

Jonny presses a kiss to the top of Tim's head, and Tim smiles softly.

Jonny offers him a hand to stand with.

Tim takes it.

* * *

They lay curled up on Tim’s bed, Noodles had found zir way back to Tim’s room during the chaos, and after Jonny and Tim had laid down, ze curled up on Tim’s leg. Purring like a broken kazoo.

Tim buries his face into Jonny’s chest, breathing slowly.

Tims’s head pounds as Jonny every so often mumbles another apology. 

Tim had already forgiven him.

It was an accident after all.

And in the end, he was fine.

He curled a bit deeper into Jonny’s arms

He’s okay.

Mostly.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @louchie  
> Mechs tumblr: @gunpowderdtim


End file.
